Lord Morpeth continued to be delirious and required strapping and strong men standing by so that he would not thrash and tear his stitches loose. Lady Lyndmouth and Lady Morpeth returned to keep vigil, often together.
The next morning, Arabella came into the room.
Alasdair had his eyes closed but he was hovering on the edge of sleep, still somewhat aware of what passed in the room. He noted Arabella’s sweet scent first. Then heard her soft steps. Lady Lyndmouth’s voice, very quiet, came to his ears.
“Mrs. Andrews, Lord Morpeth still lives. We are so grateful to you and your husband.”
“It’s all to do with Dr. Andrews, I assure you.”
“He is a miracle. That he should be here just when he was most needed. And he has only left the bedside for twenty minutes altogether.”
Feeling guilty over his inadvertent eavesdropping, Alasdair rubbed his eyes and yawned noisily.
She was by his side instantly.
“Dr. Andrews.”
“Mrs. Andrews.” If only she were. He gazed at her, trying to take every detail in of her face, her hair, her body. She had slept, he could tell. She looked rested and fed. She had a different dress on.
“Dr. Andrews, you must go to your own bed and sleep or you will become a patient as well.”
He stood. “Nonsense.”
“Tell me what to look for in Lord Morpeth’s condition, and I will have someone come get you if there is a crisis.”
“Ye did admirably, Arabella, with the surgery. It widnae have been successful without ye. But this is not yer task, this is mine.”
Lady Lyndmouth called, “Doctor?”
She was at the head of the bed. Lord Morpeth’s eyes were open and looking at Lady Lyndmouth.
Alasdair joined her and felt the man’s forehead. “His fever is down.” He felt the wrist. “The pulse dinnae race and ’tis strong.”
“Water.” This was from the baron. A very weak and cracked voice.
“Just a sip.” Alasdair directed the footman and the groom that had been standing by to release Lord Morpeth from his straps. Morpeth clasped Lady Lyndmouth’s hand as Alasdair supported his head and brought a cup of water to his lips.
Morpeth took a sip and swallowed with no difficulty.
“More,” he said.
“In time, Lord Morpeth.” Alasdair turned to Lady Lyndmouth. “This cup of water should last an hour. Only a small sip every few minutes. If he vomits or chokes, ye must have someone come get me immediately. If he does well with the cup of water, he can have two cups the next hour, and so on.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Lady Lyndmouth said as she took the cup from him. “I will have Lady Morpeth come to the bedside, as well.
“Aye. Have someone fetch me if fever returns, if his pain worsens.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
And then Alasdair let Arabella take him from the room and into another. Only after she had led him to the bed and taken off his tailcoat and waistcoat and eased his boots off and made him recline, did he realize that this was her bedchamber again. And then he drifted off, secure in the knowledge that she was in the room with him. Dauntless Arabella, guarding the doctor’s sleep.
Thirty
He woke up in the dark room and she was there by his side, asleep. On her stomach, he thought. She was not touching him except for one small hand grasping his shirt, over his left chest, exactly where she had pressed her hand when he had walked into her cottage in Dunburn.
He moved a little, and she woke immediately. She pulled herself to him and her mouth sought his. Even as she kissed him, she was pulling up her nightdress, and then she had broken the kiss and was kneeling at his side and pulling the nightdress all the way up over her head. He could see only a dim outline of her small form with the scant light coming from the embers of the fire. She leaned over to kiss him again and he knew that what he felt brushing the shirt over his chest were her naked breasts. He put a hand up and touched her back. She stopped kissing him then and held still, kneeling, as his hand felt the warm, velvet skin overlying her shoulder blade. He allowed himself to bring his hand down her back and as he did so, she exhaled slowly. And then the bone and muscle of her back ended and he felt the fleshy roundness of her buttock under his hand. A new, beautiful lush territory she was offering to him.
“I ... I don’t want to die,” she whispered.
